


Lovin' It Up

by letsjustsee



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Elevators, Enemies to Lovers, Fluff, Neighbors, No Smut, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Secret Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-15
Updated: 2017-08-15
Packaged: 2018-12-15 17:54:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11811201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/letsjustsee/pseuds/letsjustsee
Summary: What did Niall know? This had nothing to do with the few times (okay, countless times) Louis had pined over the idea of Hot Neighbor while drinking. Nothing at all. So what if he had perfect lips and long legs and the cutest little curls around his ears? Certainly not Louis.He continued to scribble away, most of his words indiscernible except for one written in large letters at the very top of the napkin:REVENGEOr, a neighbors AU in which Louis vows to get revenge on the guy who didn't hold the elevator for him - no matter how ridiculously attractive he may be.





	Lovin' It Up

**Author's Note:**

  * For [screwdestinyintheface](https://archiveofourown.org/users/screwdestinyintheface/gifts).



This box was going to be the death of Louis, he just knew it. It wasn’t the brightest idea he’d ever had to put so many heavy books into one, he should have made multiple trips, but he was nothing if not stubborn. One trip, that’s what he told himself. One trip to be rid of the books he never even glanced at, and his mission of decluttering his apartment would be done – that was, if he could make it to the library without collapsing.

Unwilling to admit defeat, he slowly made his way from his apartment to the elevator, pausing every so often to lean the box against the wall, sweat dripping down his forehead and getting into his eyes. Why did he have so many heavy books in the first place? He could hear how labored his own breathing sounded, could feel the strain in his arms, and decided that he had to push through. These small breaks were only making it harder to keep going.

Hoisting the box higher in his arms, and shuffling his way slowly towards the elevator, he wasn’t able to see directly in front of him. He hoped nothing would trip him up, listening carefully for any signs of neighbors, watching the ground as it appeared from underneath the box, cursing himself for thinking this was ever a good idea.

It caught him off guard when he heard a door slam, and a quick shuffling of feet, followed rapidly by the ding of the elevator somewhere up ahead.

 _Thank God,_ Louis thought. Someone, one of his angelic, beautiful neighbors, was getting in ahead of him, which meant he wouldn’t have to fumble for the button, wouldn’t have to potentially drop this box in the attempt to get downstairs, and would only have to worry about walking straight ahead where he could safely rest this box against the elevator wall. He was going to make it.

“Hold the elevator,” he shouted, the sound muffled a little by the cardboard in front of his face, but loud enough that surely this mystery savior would hear him. Except not a second later, the words barely out of Louis’ mouth, he started to hear the doors shutting, and he panicked. What if they had headphones in? What if it was poor Mrs. Delaney, hard of hearing, and she didn’t know Louis was mere feet away, struggling to survive? He tried one more time, “Hold the elevator!”

Using all his strength, he shifted the enormous box slightly to his right, letting him look around it only barely, hoping to catch a glimpse of whoever was currently inside.

It wasn’t Mrs. Delaney. And it wasn’t someone with headphones in. It was Hot Neighbor, the one Louis had ogled from afar ever since he moved in a month ago, but hadn’t yet had the opportunity to introduce himself to. And he didn’t seem to be hard of hearing. In fact, right before the doors shut with a resounding _click_ , he and Louis made eye contact, his green eyes wide in what looked like embarrassment, before quickly looking down to stare at the floor.

“Fucking bastard,” Louis whispered, disbelief coursing through him. Who would ignore someone’s pleas to hold the elevator? Exhaustion and anger intermingled inside of him, and he lost his concentration, stepping out of the way just in time to avoid the box of books crashing down in front of him. The cardboard ripped on one side, the tape that was holding it together splitting, and books spilled out onto the hallway floor. 

“Fucking shit, motherfucking cock,” Louis screamed, no longer caring who he disturbed, frustration making him see red.

It was official. Hot Neighbor was an asshole.

\--

“Honestly bro, I think you’re overreacting a little,” Niall said, taking a swig of his beer and leveling Louis with a look of judgment.

 Louis rolled his eyes. He still wasn’t over it, and he really didn’t think he was overreacting.

 “What kind of monster sees someone struggling with something heavy, and doesn’t hold the fucking elevator? Decent people would have even offered to help, but this guy couldn’t even make an effort to press a fucking button.” Louis had told and retold the story at least five times over the course of the evening, getting a little more heated each time, adding a little more embellishment to his struggle. “I almost died, Niall.”

Niall laughed loudly at that, spurring on Louis’ annoyance. Niall clapped him on the back and shook his head, like he was incredibly endeared, and wandered off to go order another drink from the bar. Louis kept muttering to himself under his breath, replaying the incident over and over, as he steadily got drunker. He thought a few drinks might calm him down, but even through his drunken haze, he kept wondering why Hot Neighbor would ignore him like that, how he could look Louis right in the eye and then look away.

And that’s when a plan started to develop.

“Niall,” Louis exclaimed when he returned from the bar, two drinks in hand, and set one in front of Louis. Louis looked up from the napkin he had been hastily scribbling on and stared at Niall through slightly hazy eyes.  “I need your help figuring some things out.”

“Oh good, have we moved on from this elevator shit?” Niall took his seat back at the table and took a long swig of his fresh drink.

“No, not a chance,” Louis looked back down, ignoring Niall’s huff of annoyance, continuing to write sloppily on a cocktail napkin.

“Who was this guy anyway? Was it that dick from down the hall who plays his music super loudly?”

“No, it was Hot Neighbor,” Louis said casually, not even looking up.

“Oh my god,” Niall groaned, and when Louis looked up his face was in his hands, his shoulders shaking with laughter.

“What?” Louis asked, and when Niall didn’t respond, only kept laughing at Louis, he asked again more firmly, “ _What_ , Niall?”

“You’re telling me that the person you’ve been obsessing over all day, who you’re plotting against, is _Hot Neighbor_?”

“Yes, that’s what I just said,” Louis deadpanned, supremely disinterested. “Do you have a point?” Louis raised an eyebrow at Niall, suspecting where this was going but hoping otherwise.

“You’re completely in love with him, you idiot. Now I get it.” Niall chuckled again and raised his glass in salute to Louis, taking a few large gulps as Louis blinked at him, unimpressed. Niall simply repeated himself as he set his glass down, crossing his arms and nodding his head along with the words, “Now I get it.”

“Now you get what?” Louis asked, but he didn’t wait for an answer. “You’re an asshole, shut up.” Niall laughed loudly, and Louis hunched himself over his napkin, continuing to scribble and ignoring Niall as best he could.

What did Niall know? This had nothing to do with the few times (okay, _countless times_ ) Louis had pined over the idea of Hot Neighbor while drinking. Nothing at all. So what if he had perfect lips and long legs and the cutest little curls around his ears? Certainly not Louis.

He stuck an arm out where it was curled around the other, hiding his work from Niall, to grab his drink. Niall just laughed again, and started looking around the bar for entertainment, leaving Louis to his task.

He continued to scribble away, most of his words indiscernible except for one written in large letters at the very top of the napkin:

**REVENGE**

\--

Louis had to time this perfectly. If he didn’t get it exactly right, his whole operation would be blown, and all his carefully laid plans would have been in vain. He nervously chewed his lip as he waited off to the side of the lobby, hidden in a small alcove that used to hold a few mail slots, but was now mostly forgotten.

Louis knew that Hot Neighbor usually got back into the building around 6 PM with his groceries, give or take a few minutes. This meant that he had around a ten minute window to place his **OUT OF ORDER** sign on the elevator, just in time to thwart any chances of this guy using it.

But he wasn’t a monster.

He didn’t want to make anyone _else_ walk up the stairs unnecessarily, which was why he was currently hiding quietly, anxiously awaiting his move.

(When Niall had asked him, incredulously, how Louis could possibly know Hot Neighbor’s schedule already, Louis simply stumbled over his words before completely changing the subject. It was all in the name of revenge. It wasn’t because Louis had taken notice of his schedule long before this began, certainly not.)

His alarm buzzed on his phone. 5:55. It was time to make his move.

Sneaking a look around the lobby quickly, but seeing and hearing no one, he quietly crept out and taped the sign on the metal doors of the elevator. He hoped, with fingers crossed, that no one used the elevator before Hot Neighbor had a chance to read the sign, as that would ruin the entire plot. He planned to watch and wait for him to arrive, and once he started trudging up the five flights of stairs to their floor, to remove the sign and hightail it upstairs in the elevator himself.

It was basically an airtight plan.

Except when he got back to his little alcove to spy, and Hot Neighbor walked in with two grocery bags in each hand at six o’clock exactly ( _fuck you, Niall)_ , Louis immediately saw where his airtight plan acquired some holes.

Hot Neighbor wasn’t alone.

He was chatting jovially with another one of their fellow apartment tenants, a teenager named Gavin from the floor above them whose parents were always very sweet to Louis, who himself had always held the door, who Louis had always remarked was quite polite for someone his age – and Gavin was hobbling along on crutches.

_Shit._

The two of them didn’t take notice of Louis at all, only stopping briefly for the poor kid to adjust his gait, his breathing noticeably labored even from across the entire lobby. Louis felt a war inside of himself – did he keep this charade up, enacting Part One of his revenge on Hot Neighbor? If he did, this poor kid, who Louis had always been a fan of, would be unknowingly dragged into it, and would be forced to scale six flights of stairs _on crutches_. But they were already only ten feet away from the elevator door at this point, still not taking notice of Louis or his hand-written sign. How could he possibly jump out now and remove the Out Of Order notice without looking suspicious?

The words were bubbling up into his throat, threatening to make their way out, he was going to do it – he was going to yell something, _Stop!_ or _Wait!_ , he really was. Except then Hot Neighbor and Gavin were right in front of the elevator, talking in hushed tones that Louis couldn’t exactly make out, but he could see the downtrodden look on Gavin’s face.

And it was now official – turns out Louis _was_ sort of a monster. Because he could do nothing but watch as Hot Neighbor put a hand on Gavin’s shoulder, smiled at him reassuringly, and made some sort of agreement in those quiet voices. And he could only stare, wide-eyed, as Hot Neighbor set his four bags of groceries to the side of the lobby, and reached out a hand to Gavin as he transferred his weight to his good foot, Hot Neighbor taking both his crutches one-handed and laying them down next to the grocery bags.

And then Hot Neighbor turned around, allowing Gavin to jump up on his back, and quickly made his way over to the stairs, kicking the door open dramatically with his foot as Gavin laughed loudly.

Was he… surely he wasn’t…

That was _six flights_ of stairs they had to climb up. Louis was still staring at the place they had disappeared seconds before, their voices and laughter fading quickly as they seemed to ascend the staircase together.

Louis swallowed loudly in the quiet lobby, frozen in place. He had really only meant to make Hot Neighbor carry his groceries upstairs without the help of the elevator, only wanted to minorly inconvenience him, to annoy him, not ruin the day of some innocent teenager with a broken foot.

Louis groaned through gritted teeth as he swayed in place, making small fits and starts as he debated what he was about to do. This was _not_ part of the revenge plan, but all he could think about was the fact that Hot Neighbor was currently carrying a full-sized human up all those stairs just so the kid wouldn’t have to hurt himself.  

He sprang into action. Jogging quickly across the lobby, he gathered up the four bags of groceries, two on each arm, and bent down to grab the crutches, awkwardly holding them as best he could on one side, wedged between his arm and body. They threw off his center of gravity a little, and he wobbled a little walking over to the door for the stairs, but he didn’t stop to think.

There was no way he could use the elevator now. Not if he wanted to bring these up to the floor where Hot Neighbor would be dropping Gavin off without being seen. He assumed Hot Neighbor’s plan had been to run back downstairs to grab the groceries and crutches, and make his way back up to deliver them, but Louis planned to cut at least part of that short.

It turned out that walking up six flights of stairs with four heavy grocery bags and two awkward crutches _sucked._ By about the third floor, he could hear voices up ahead, their journey much slower than Louis’, so he held himself back, taking the stairs little by little, catching words here and there, quiet laughs as they joked with one another.

Louis cursed himself internally. And then he cursed Hot Neighbor. His anger at him hadn’t gone away, in fact it had probably been reignited by the fact that he was now lumbering his way upstairs unnecessarily, but his gut flipped a little with the thought of him offering to carry Gavin on his back. He tried to push that feeling aside though, because it was most definitely getting in the way of his ultimate goal of revenge.

Once the two of them made their way through the sixth floor door, both of them cheering enthusiastically and making Louis crack a small smile from his hidden position on the floor below, Louis quickly ascended the rest of the stairs and placed the grocery bags and crutches on the floor right outside the door as quietly as possible. He overheard the tail end of the conversation, as Gavin’s front door was right across from the stairwell.

“Thank you so much, Harry,” Gavin said, and Louis chanced a quick glance through the small window in the door, seeing Gavin balancing on one foot, his hand steadying himself on his doorframe. Harry (Louis guessed he could stop referring to him as Hot Neighbor now) smiled back at him, and mumbled something that Louis couldn’t quite catch, but he did hear the words _crutches_ and _groceries_ , and Louis panicked. 

With his heart in his throat, he turned around and sprinted down the stairs to the fifth floor, yanking the stairwell door open and racing to his own apartment as fast as he could. He could only assume Harry would have found the groceries and crutches by now, but he was too busy fumbling with his keys to think much about it. Slamming the door behind him, and resting his back against it with his eyes closed, he breathed heavily and tried to still his racing heart.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, startling him, and he withdrew it to read a text from Niall.

 **Niall:** How’s the revenge going?

Quickly, Louis typed out a reply and tossed the phone onto a nearby table, his mind already going over his plans for tomorrow.

_Obviously it went perfectly, as I am an evil genius. Please don’t doubt me Neil._

\--

 _Alright_ , Louis told himself from his hiding spot in the same alcove as yesterday, _some minor setbacks on Part One, but Part Two is foolproof_. He still chewed on his fingernail nervously, waiting quietly as tenants filtered in and out of the lobby, the usual mid-evening rush of people coming home from work buzzing around him.

Louis himself had gotten home only an hour before, and he rushed to shower and change before setting up camp in the alcove again, silently observing as people came and went. Every time a new person walked through the doors, his stomach lurched, but so far no sign of Harry.

Niall had laughed uncontrollably at Louis’ retelling of the story, making fun of him for fucking up such an easy part of the plan, but Louis was undeterred. He had barreled on in their conversation the night before, ignoring Niall’s giggles and prods, explaining that this time, there was no way to entangle an innocent bystander. This one was perfect. Niall had only snorted and halfheartedly agreed, encouraging Louis only as a formality, which Louis ignored. 

At five after six, he caught a quick glimpse of brown hair, and his stomach lurched appropriately this time, because Harry was waltzing through the front doors of the lobby, his hair windswept and held back with a pair of sunglasses. He looked tired but happy, whistling a little as he made his way over to the bank of mailboxes on the left side, and Louis tried to ignore the swoop of butterflies he felt betraying him in his stomach.

 _Perfect_ , Louis thought as he watched Harry retrieve his mailbox key from his pocket. This was going to be amazing. That overnight shipping fee was definitely worth it.

He watched on with bated breath as Harry slowly unlocked his mailbox, reaching in to bring out a small stack of envelopes, sorting through them with his lower lip between his teeth. Louis could barely contain his excitement and nerves as he saw Harry reach the bottom of the stack, a neon green envelope with no return address in Harry’s hands, a look on confusion on his face.

Harry turned the letter over, probably looking for clues to its origin, but Louis knew it was useless – the company he ordered from assured him there was no way it could be traced back to anyone. As Harry flipped it over once more, reaching a finger beneath the flap to open it up, Louis was enthralled, watching as if in slow motion as Harry reached the end of the stuffed envelope, and a cloud of glitter began to erupt from its neon green home.

“Oh shit,” Harry said, audible even across the lobby, and Louis had to contain a snort. Harry was immediately scrabbling to stop the flow of glitter that was now pouring out of the envelope, but it was useless – any attempts he made only made it worse, and the ground around him (as well as most of his own body) was now covered in a layer of bright, silver and pink glitter.

Harry was now making enough of a commotion that other tenants had begun to notice, and Louis could hear Harry’s hurried apologies as a few people glanced his way. Louis’ body was shaking with silent laughter as he continued to watch the scene unfold – Harry’s confusion, his attempt to find a note within the mountain of glitter (thus spilling even more on himself and the floor), not finding one (because there was no way Louis was going to include a note revealing his tactics), and his flailing attempts to contain the mess that was now surrounding his entire body.

Louis entertained himself with the scene for only about a minute more, though, before he noticed a mother walking up to Harry with her small child, some tenants from the building that Louis had only seen in passing, but seemed to recognize Harry because they called hello to each other.

Louis only caught about every other word of the conversation across the lobby, but from Harry’s self-deprecating shrug and the woman’s laughter, Louis began to deflate – this wasn’t the stressful, embarrassing situation Louis had envisioned. Harry looked confused, but… almost delighted.

Especially when – no… _you’ve got to be fucking kidding me,_ Louis thought, as he watched Harry kneel down to the smiling toddler, encouraging her to start playing in the glitter with him.

If Louis thought the mother would put a stop to this adorable picture ( _No,_ Louis reprimanded himself internally, _this is not adorable)_ , he was sorely mistaken, because she made a gesture like she only needed a moment, and popped off to the building’s front office, leaving Harry alone with this little girl. The two of them, now both covered in shiny, sticky glitter, giggled loudly and started drawing shapes in the mess on the floor, Harry sitting cross legged in front of her while she stood on chubby, bowed legs, bouncing with happiness as she knelt down.

This… this was a disaster.

How could such a perfect plan be ruined? Louis was fuming, watching as Harry and this little girl started rubbing the glitter around on the hardwood floor, both of them equally delighted in the pretty mess it was making. Louis watched as Harry made a funny face and booped the little girl on the nose, causing her to squeal with joy. Louis’ mouth quirked up, but he schooled it quickly. He was furious, there wasn’t any room for smiles here.

But then Harry started tickling the little girl, and she sat down next to him and collapsed into a pile of laughter, her little baby giggles filling the whole lobby, and Louis found himself beaming at her involuntarily. Harry stopped to let her get up again, and she launched herself at him in a hug, the two of them toppling over in a big, cute, glittery pile.

Louis could feel his eyes squinting from smiling so hard.

 _Fuck,_ he thought, quickly looking away. _No, nope._

He told himself to concentrate on the anger, to remember the fury of dropping that box of books when Harry refused to hold the elevator, and pretty soon his delight at watching Harry was schooled into something more neutral – not exactly the rage-filled hate he desired, but something a little more towards annoyance. It was a start.

And luckily, Louis still had one last trick up his sleeve, one final part to his plan for revenge that was going to top them all.

Part Three was going to be perfect.

\--

Louis looked through his peephole as the tenth knock of the day sounded from down the hall. All morning he had delightedly watched from the safety of his apartment as tenant after tenant came knocking on Harry’s door, some demanding, some angry, and all of them seeking the advice of their buildings newest Head of the Resident’s Association (a completely bogus position Louis had made up the night before, posting as many fliers as he could throughout every floor of the building, staying up into the wee hours of the morning to accomplish the task).

With the first knock, Harry had been confused, but polite, insisting over and over that he wasn’t sure what the man meant, but apologizing profusely for the mix-up. It had taken Harry ten whole minutes to make him go away.

By the sixth visitor, Harry had his script down to a science (which Louis could hear even from behind his door, the low tones of Harry’s deep voice carrying down the hallway, “No, I’m very sorry there’s been a mix-up, but I’m not the Head of the Resident’s Association, you should call the super if you have a problem”). The reactions had ranged from polite apologies to thinly veiled frustration to outright yelling (although, to be fair, Mr. Thomas was always sort of yelling – it was his go-to volume).

Louis kept waiting for Harry to lose his cool, to scream at someone for bothering him, but with each passing visitor Louis’ spirits fell more. Harry always answered the door with a smile, his polite but rehearsed speech never wavering. The last two visitors had been offered muffins – _fucking muffins._

 _Did he bake those just now?_ Louis couldn’t believe it. This guy was unshakeable.

Not to mention, Louis had spent his entire morning posted at his own door, watching the scene unfold. Niall had called him twice, both times explaining to Louis how much of an idiot he was (and mentioning again this “ridiculous crush on Hot Neighbor”, after which Louis promptly hung up and put his phone on silent).

Louis’ stomach growled, and he realized that he hadn’t eaten anything in hours, close to giving up on this ridiculous quest and just leaving Harry alone once and for all. But then he heard another knock from down the hall, and he rushed to press his eye to the peephole, sure that this was going to be the straw that broke the camel’s back.

 _Oh for God’s sake_ , he thought, as he watched sweet Mrs. Delaney standing in front of Harry’s door, a look of determination on her face.

“Hi Mrs. Delaney,” he heard Harry say kindly as he opened the door, and she smiled at him.

“Harry dear,” she yelled, her hearing bad as ever, “I need you to fix my faucet, it’s leaking.”

Harry launched into his speech once again, but Mrs. Delaney cut him off mid-sentence.

“What’s that dear?”

Louis watched curiously as Harry smiled and started over, but only made it a few words in before Mrs. Delaney was yelling again.

“Sorry, dear, you’ll have to speak up,” she announced, placing a hand on his elbow to lean a little closer to him. He once again loudly started his speech, the words audible to everyone up and down the hallway by now, but sweet Mrs. Delaney was undeterred. “My faucet, dear,” she yelled once again. “I need you to fix my faucet.”

Louis smiled at the exchange. He thought that he would get some kind of sick pleasure out of watching this, that he would have a laugh at Harry’s expense, but he only felt a warm sort of fondness as he observed.

Harry sighed, running a hand through his fluffy hair, looking resigned.

“Alright, love,” he said, gesturing behind Mrs. Delaney and making his way out of his own apartment and shutting the door behind him, his legs covered in pajama bottoms, an old t-shirt over his torso. “Let’s go.”

Louis stared as Harry offered an arm to Mrs. Delaney, supporting her as she shuffled towards her apartment, coming closer to Louis’ end of the hallway. Those damn butterflies were back, Louis’ tummy doing a flip-flop with his face still pressed to his own door, eye practically glued to the peephole. Harry smiled down at Mrs. Delaney, who was paying him no attention, and Louis bit his lip.

“So fucking cute,” he said, not realizing he had spoken it out loud until Harry’s head snapped up towards the direction of Louis’ door, the thin walls not doing anything to disguise his voice. Louis flew away from the peephole, kneeling down with his back against the door, his eyes shut tight and a hand over his mouth, as if that would keep him invisible, would reverse what just happened.

 _Fucking shit,_ Louis thought, embarrassment flooding his body.

Luckily, not even a minute later he heard the sound of Harry and Mrs. Delaney making their way into her apartment, the door shutting behind them and leaving the hallway in perfect silence.  

What the hell was Louis doing? This quest for revenge was not panning out how he anticipated, and now he was calling Harry cute from behind a peephole. This was definitely over, there was no way Louis was going to continue whatever this was. He would have to admit defeat, grumble to Niall about his failure, and listen to the inevitable _I told you so_ that was coming his way.

He was not looking forward to it.

\--

A few hours later, after Louis had peeled himself up off his entryway floor, shaking away the embarrassment of this whole ordeal as best he could, he was finally ready to leave his apartment. It was almost five, and he had wasted his entire morning with this ridiculous plot, receiving nothing out of it but the humiliation of almost revealing himself to Harry.

Locking his door behind him, he started making his way towards the elevator, determined to go buy dinner and make something of his day. He waited for it to arrive, shifting his weight on the balls of his feet, wondering vaguely if Harry ever managed to get Mrs. Delaney’s faucet fixed, and then chastising himself for thinking about him at all.  

Once inside the elevator, he heard a door open close by, and was suddenly confronted with Harry, carrying a tool box in one hand and a cloth bag in the other, still about twenty feet away from where Louis stood.

“Hold the elevator,” Harry called, not having looked up from locking his door yet, and Louis froze.

This was it. This was the moment where he made his decision – did he continue this ridiculous vendetta, or did he forgive and forget?

At the split second, moment of truth, Harry looked up and they met eyes, a perfect parallel to when Louis had been on the other side of the door, and he had no idea what spurred him on, but in that moment Louis chose without thinking.

**DOOR CLOSE**

He pressed the button quickly, watching as Harry moved towards him, a look on his face that Louis couldn’t decipher, and as the doors shut with distinct finality, Louis called loudly, “How does it feel?”

As soon as the doors were shut, and the elevator started going down towards the first floor, Louis panicked.

Why did he do that? Why did he shut the door on Harry? And why, _why_ , did he say that to him?

Louis buried his face in his hands and groaned loudly, the sound echoing in the empty elevator around him. He couldn’t even begin to explain why he had that reaction, other than a stupid, stubborn desire to hold onto his grudge. His feelings about his “Hot Neighbor” had shifted over the past few days, and he was feeling vulnerable about it, not wanting to admit to himself that maybe Niall was right – it just wasn’t true that he hated Harry. Not even a little bit.

And now he had gone and fucked up any chance he had of them being friends, of them even being cordial to each other, by acting like a complete fool to his face.

Louis let out another groan, which morphed into a frustrated yell quickly.

“Damn it,” he shouted, the sound amplified in the small space, as the elevator quickly approached the ground floor.

He had to get out of here, had to leave this building immediately and return much, much later – preferably in a few years when Harry was no longer a tenant. He just couldn’t face his embarrassment, not after what he had done.

He felt like he was crawling out of his own skin by the time the elevator slowly came to a halt, the doors opening agonizingly slow, his mind stuck on Harry, five floors above him, probably still standing there in shock.

He was halfway across the lobby, marching towards the front doors, when the stairwell door banged open and he heard someone shout, “HEY!”

Turning quickly in surprise, Louis took in Harry running across the lobby straight in Louis’ direction, his chest heaving with the effort of his breathing, his hands free of the toolbox and bag he had been carrying moments before. Louis didn’t have time to register was happening, didn’t have time to run away, before Harry was close enough to him that Louis could see the bright green of his eyes, could make out the slight stubble on his jaw.

Louis opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. He fish mouthed for a while as Harry held up one finger, gesturing for Louis to give him a moment, his other hand coming up to his chest as he tried to get his breathing under control.

“Did you sprint down five flights of stairs?” Louis asked dumbly, his mouth supplying the first thing that came to him.

Harry could only nod at first, his finger still held up, and he wheezed out “Had to beat the elevator”.

“Umm,” Louis stuttered, not knowing what to do, or say, as he watched Harry catch his breath.

Finally, Harry straightened up and looked right in Louis’ eyes as he asked, “Is that why?”

Louis furrowed his brow, trying to hold eye contact despite his nerves, as he questioned, “Is what why?”

Harry got a look of fear on his face, like he hadn’t meant to say that, but it was quickly followed by a look of a determination and a bite to his bottom lip.

“Is that why you’ve been pulling these pranks on me?”

“Wh- what,” Louis stammered, completely speechless. Harry knew he was behind those? How could he possibly?

“It wasn’t that hard to figure out,” Harry continued, although Louis hadn’t actually verbalized his question. “I saw you watching Gavin and I through the stairwell window, so I knew it was you who carried the groceries up.”

Louis winced and looked down at his feet, his face heating up quickly.

“And I heard you giggling in the corner of the lobby when I was playing with Ella in the glitter.”

Louis couldn’t look back up at Harry, he just couldn’t, he was absolutely mortified.

“And then when I went to fix Mrs. Delaney’s faucet, she mentioned she had seen you putting up the fliers, and how thankful she was that she had two nice, young gentlemen on the same floor as her.” Harry’s tone was even and slow, not angry or resentful, just sounding slightly confused.

Harry continued. “I put the pieces together, but I couldn’t figure out why you were doing it. And then I thought about the other day, when I didn’t hold the elevator for you, and I knew,” Harry paused to run his fingers through his hair, his tone finally adopting a hint of frustration. “I _knew_ I should have sought you out to apologize, but I was too nervous. I hoped you hadn’t seen it was me, but obviously, _obviously_ you did.”

He trailed off lamely, as if he was the one who should be ashamed, and Louis finally chanced a look up at him, finding Harry staring at him intently. Louis could feel how red his cheeks were, and they flushed even deeper when they made eye contact.

“I told myself that I had fucked everything up, and that I probably deserved whatever pranks you were pulling,” Harry continued, a deep frown on his face. “That you must hate me now-”

“I don’t hate you,” Louis found himself interrupting quietly.

Harry, caught off guard, immediately responded with, “What?”

His brow furrowed, and he brought a hand up to his mouth to chew on his thumb almost unconsciously, maybe a nervous habit. Louis couldn’t help the thought that cropped up without permission - _he’s so cute_.  

“I don’t,” Louis started, but his voice was quiet and scratchy so he stopped, clearing his throat and saying with more determination, “I don’t hate you.”

“You don’t?” Harry asked, looking more confused than ever.

“No,” Louis said quietly, looking back down at his feet. “And I’m- I’m really, uh, really sorry about everything I did.”

“I probably deserved it,” Harry began, but Louis cut him off.

“No, you definitely didn’t,” he sighed, and scratched at the back of his neck nervously. “I was just- I got caught up in these stupid pranks, and then you responded to them so nicely, it was… I don’t even know what I was thinking.”

They both stood there for a moment in silence, Louis glancing between Harry’s face and his own feet, Harry still anxiously chewing on his thumb.

“Umm,” Louis broke the silence, wanting to ask something, but wondering if he should risk it with this delicate balance they were both navigating. “Why did-”

He trailed off and stared at the floor, his nerves getting the best of him, but Harry made an inquiring noise, a quiet _hmm_ and Louis continued.

“Why did you ignore me that day?” He looked up as he said it, and he could see the blood rushing to Harry’s cheeks. He almost immediately went to take it back, to say _never mind_ , just so he wouldn’t be the one causing Harry embarrassment, but Harry started to move before he could.

He placed both his hands over his face and groaned exaggeratedly, which was not what Louis was expecting. Then he mumbled something into his hands that Louis didn’t catch, and he had to ask him to repeat it.

After a moment, when Harry still wouldn’t budge, Louis reached up and gently grasped one of his wrists, tugging slightly so he would show his face again.  

Harry wouldn’t look Louis in the eye, huffing out through his nose before starting, “I thought you were-”

He cut himself off and looked to the side of Louis’ face, seeming to take a few breaths to brace himself.

“Think,” he continued, more firmly. He rushed to get the rest out. “I think you’re cute. And I hadn’t ever even said hello to you, so when you called to me to hold the elevator I just… I panicked.”

Harry glanced back quickly at Louis to gauge his reaction, giving him a half smile and a tiny shrug of his shoulders, a self-deprecating look on his face. He couldn’t look at Louis for long before his cheeks got redder, and he started staring at the ground again.

“Oh,” Louis said, the surprise evident in his voice. He tried to school it into something more neutral, casual, not seeping with the hope that was currently thrumming through him as he asked, “You did?”

It was silent for a moment, and Louis worried he had said the wrong thing. But then Harry started shuffling his feet a little, and answered him.

“Do,” Harry said quietly, still not looking Louis in the face. “I do.”

Louis’ mind was racing, wondering if this was all actually happening. Maybe he had passed out in his entryway earlier, maybe this was just a hallucination. But then Harry started talking again, and snapped Louis out of his musings.

“So I hope that you can, uh, forgive me for not holding the elevator,” Harry trailed off, anticipation and worry evident in his voice.

“Of course,” Louis said with finality, causing Harry to finally, _finally_ , stop looking at his feet and maintain eye contact with Louis. “Will you forgive me for these dumb pranks?”

Harry was already nodding his head, about to answer in the affirmative, when Louis spoke up again, emboldened by Harry’s own confession.

“I’ve thought you were cute too, by the way,” he said, his voice getting quieter at the end as his stomach swooped with butterflies. “Ever since you moved in. I think that’s why, um- maybe why I was upset that you ignored me.”

The smile that Harry leveled him with nearly bowled him over, dimples appearing in Harry’s cheeks that he craved to reach out and touch.

“Well,” Harry started, seeming more confident now with both their confessions out of the way. “Seems like we’ve gone about this completely wrong.”

Louis laughed, nodding his head in agreement.

“Would you, um,” Harry began, rubbing his hands together in front of him, “would you maybe want to get coffee- or, shit, it’s too late for coffee isn’t it? Uh, dinner? Drinks?”

Louis cut Harry’s rambling off with a hand, smiling at him brightly.

“Any of those. Yes. Please.”

They both stood staring at each other and smiling for another minute, lost in the moment, neither of them noticing that Mrs. Delaney had walked into the lobby and approached them both.

“Harry, dear,” she yelled at them, unaware as always of the volume of her voice. They collectively jumped, both startled by her sudden appearance. “There’s a water stain from that leaky faucet earlier. Would you come over and sort it out?”

Harry smiled at her kindly, speaking loudly enough for her to hear. “Absolutely, Mrs. Delaney. I’m just going to take Louis here on a date first, if you don’t mind.”

Mrs. Delaney smiled widely, patting Harry on the shoulder with a small, wrinkled hand.

“Oh, that’s wonderful dear,” she said, looking between the two of them with pride. “I’ve been wondering when the two of you would get together.”

Louis laughed, and almost missed Harry saying quietly, “Ditto” as he watched Louis and smiled.

“What was that?” Mrs. Delaney yelled, craning her neck a little closer, and Louis giggled even more.

“Nothing, Mrs. Delaney,” Harry bellowed, giving her a one-armed hug and a few pats on the back. “I’ll see you later, okay?”

She seemed satisfied with his answer, and shuffled off towards the elevator once again, Harry and Louis watching her retreat.

“She’s a smart one, that woman,” Harry said, looking back at Louis with a mischievous smile.

“Absolutely,” Louis agreed, gesturing towards the door and guiding Harry there with a hand on his lower back. They walked out of the building together towards their first date, the _ding_ of the elevator doors closing somewhere behind them.

**Author's Note:**

> To screwdestinyintheface: Thank you for the cute prompt! I loved writing this, and had so much fun imagining a silly, vengeful (and, let's be honest, pining!) Louis - so I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> Title is from Aerosmith's "Love In An Elevator"
> 
> If you enjoyed this, please reblog [the post](https://letsjustsee.tumblr.com/post/165972761902/lovin-it-up-by-letsjustsee-word-count-7k).


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